The single, satin ballet slipper tumbled down,
down, down the side of the building, landing on the city sidewalk below with barely a sound. There, among throngs of foot travelers
oblivious to all but their digital devices, it was kicked aside several times
before coming to rest at the soiled base of a traffic signal alight in
red.
From her precarious perch at the edge of the roof
high above, the wind slicing through the thin, still-damp fabric clinging to
her small frame, Carmen watched the rehearsal continue in the building across
the street, just three stories below. Slowly,
she untied the ribbons of the other slipper and wondered what it would take for
them to finally take notice of her.
From the
Studio30-Plus prompt, “precarious perch,”150-word limit.
